


Asphodel

by SandrC



Series: Balance My Deeds With My Misdeeds [19]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: 2nd person POV, Found Family, Gen, Past Tense, Taako Tuesday, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Unsafe Binding Practices, magical binders, not on a tuesday, oh I wish I had access to you magical binders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandrC/pseuds/SandrC
Summary: You bury who you were in a pile of cloth and forget about her.(And maybe your three new kinda-dads help too.)





	1. Ribbons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leafduds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafduds/gifts).



> This one goes out to [leafduds](http://twitter.com/wthequius) who sent me some lovely trans!Angus HCs and I love them dearly. Dear leafduds: not only is this fun, this is one of three. Enjoy ;3
> 
> (Also, Sandr is here to tell you not to do what Ango did. That is bad and will hurt you. The end.)

No one finds out until after the fact. Mostly you blame this on your secretive nature and ability to find and hide secrets really, really well. The rest of the blame falls on the fact that your three—dads? uncles? guardians?—coworkers were dense as a bag of bricks sometimes.

Sometimes.

Your ribs ache but the tongue lashing you got hurts more.

"What were you thinking?!"

"This is completely irresponsible of you!"

"Normally I wouldn't give a shit but this could really damage your ribs and breathing! You've got to understand why this was wrong!"

Your eyes teared up. You knew you fucked up. That's why you tried so hard to cover it up, even when you passed out during training. You know you shouldn'tve fallen asleep with it on and you definitely shouldn'tve exercised with it on either. So when you passed out and then woke up with Merle, Magnus, and Taako all standing over you like you had died, you knew shit was going down.

You just hadn't expected them to tear into you like that. Nor had you expected them to take you shopping immediately after. And definitely not at the Neverwinter Shopping Complex.

Your arms were overflowing with binder after binder, each one enchanted with compression magic and each one just as nice as the first. You kept protesting that you didn't need all of them, just seven would work, but your companions wouldn't listen. They got you fitted with every binder in the damn store and then paid for them with their salaries and you had never been so grateful.

(And when you put on one of your new binders and a sweatervest and a bow tie and looked in the mirror later, you saw Angus McDonald, teen detective, not Lilly McDonald, heir to the McDonald fortune. And you had never felt so grateful in your entire life.)


	2. Despite Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You remember the first time you wore a skirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a fucking decade. I was busy but when inspiration hit (aka I fell at work and when I was applying RICE, I had time to write) I got shit done!
> 
> Big S/O to anyone who lost a loved one who accepted you no matter what. You will meet them again someday.
> 
> Also, even bigger S/O to anyone who will draw me a goddamn human-with-dragonborn-blood Angus in a fucking skirt. I will fucking shit my pants.

You remember the last time you wore skirts. You were young, younger than you are now, and hated them. It wasn't the skirts themselves—you liked the way they let your legs breathe and how nice the fabric felt—but everything else that came with skirts. Petticoats, stiff shirts, pinned hair, makeup, and pretty words. Pretty, nice words, with maliciousness hidden behind sugar and smile. And that name, the one you abandoned long ago. Spoken like a command. It makes you shudder.

You remember how your mother and father wouldn't allow you to do what you wanted. You wanted so badly to go out and play with the servant boys. You wanted to read books in the sun while sitting in a tree. You wanted to learn magic because it looked amazing, but they wouldn't let you. Servants were servants and you were above their station—nevermind that they were boys. Books were fine, if approved, but doing so outside was bad for your skin. Magic was unbecoming of the heiress of the McDonald firm. Everything that you liked was dangled in front of you and you just kept reaching for them.

You remember your favorite thing to do. You'd borrow clothes from one of the stable boys, tucked your long hair into a small cap, and then walked around the town, invisible and unknown. No one knew who you were. No one knew your heritage. No one thought twice when you walked by them. No one stared. It was bliss.

(And you called yourself Angus because it meant "one choice" because that's all you had.)

You remember the way your parents looked at you in disappointment when they caught you outside during one of your romps. They shredded your clothes and made your maidservants keep a close eye on you. When you snuck out again, you were caught quickly and your parents decided they needed to nip that right in the bud. They sealed your fate. You could never be any more than what they decided you would be.

You remember the first day at the hell known as 'finishing school'. All the girls, prettied up and miserable, as an older woman with a dour disposition paced in front of them. She looked down on all of them, literally and figuratively, and sneered whenever one of them stepped out of line. You didn't belong there. You didn't need it. You hated it there, but so did everyone else, so you held your head high and persevered. It was the least you could do.

You remember the day you met Alice. She was just as adamant about not giving in as you were but, on top of that, she knew much more than you did about subterfuge. And she taught you how to climb and how to hide and what words were secret code and how to pass notes without being noticed. She was bright and strong and radiant and loved more than anyone. She loved women. She loved you. (You weren't sure if you felt that love with the same intensity, but you loved her as well.)

You remember the plan you had laid out. Secret, hidden passages. Maps that were hidden in code on walls along the way. Whispers to stable boys. A bribe. A ride. And Alice.

You remember how well that went. Not very, as it was. You both were caught, ratted out by one of the other girls who heard whispers and took notes. A good spy is rewarded and she handed you over in exchange for some privileges. (No money, she didn't need it. Affluence bought admission, after all.) Alice stood in front of you and urge you to go, insisting she would be fine. She was older than you, after all. She had been there for a long time. She would survive. ("If you need a place to stay, I live in Rockport. Come visit." She didn't say that name. Relief and guilt swallowed you.)

You remember when you finally stumbled into Neverwinter, exhausted and bedraggled. You had ridden one of the draft horses—an old mare that was slated to be sold to a farmer anyway—and managed to escape your pursuers. You had fled like the Wild Hunt were on your heels. When you had a moment, you sheared off your long hair with a small pocket knife, ragged and short, and you donned the clothes you bought from the busboy. No one would recognize you like this. You felt liberated. (But you had a goal in mind and you needed to find him.)

You remember the confusion on Patrice's face when you rang the doorbell of your grandfather's home. She was always a stern child, even when you were younger than you were then, so when she perceived a small ragamuffin wanting to bother Messer Arandale, she hardened further. You weren't allowed in, she chided. When you managed to convince her that you were who you said you were, despite her insistence that Messer Arandale didn't have a grandson, she went back inside and fetched him. You felt relief. You exhaled softly.

You remember the joy of being called Angus by one of the only people that you truly considered family. Your grandfather greeted you with as much vim and vigor as an elderly dragonborn could afford, his amber scales clouded but just as supple as when he was young. You leapt into his arms and sobbed, recounting your tale to him. He told you it would be fine. He told you that you could stay. He told you he was proud of you.

You remember your first 'case'. It was accidental, actually. You, Angus, had been in town for books when a young gnome and an even younger genesai started squabbling. The genesai accused the gnome of taking their coin purse. The gnome refuted the claim and countered that the genesai had lost it and was being racist. Unbeknownst to them, you had seen a small, cat-like familiar scuttle away from them with a small coin purse in its mouth only moments prior. You interrupted their argument to note that the gnome hadn't taken it and that you could easily find the real culprit. For a moment they considered you to be a scam artist but when you said you wouldn't take payment, they lightened up. You found the familiar passing the purse off to an elegant orc wizard who praised it gently. You confronted them. They refused to take accountability for their familiar's actions. There was an altercation. You won—barely.

You remember when you started to gain popularity. People sought you out for help and you assisted. They called you a whiz kid. They called you the best detective on Faerûn. They called you a genius. You didn't complain. It was nice, being wanted.

You remember saying farewell to your grandfather, hugging him with all you had as he nuzzled his snout into your curly mop of hair. He wished you well. You told him you loved him. He knew how much that meant to you. You left for Rockport. You left to find Alice.

You remember the faint and far-away look that Alice had when you finally found her. She was older, not just in age but also in spirit, and whatever remained of the free, sapphic woman that took a blow for you was buried beneath a mountain of training and pruning. Finishing school killed that part of her. As she answered the door of a small country home—lavish still, but plain—you noticed that there was a man who stood next to her, arm wrapped around her waist possessively. He was the opposite of everything that Alice had said she liked; slender, effete, gaudy, and male. She nodded at you, recognizing the way you stood, and introduced you to her husband, Alavetê Orasin. He eyed you but remained quiet, never leaving the two of you alone as you talked. You spoke in code, simple words of pleasant encounters, and when she informed you of her experiences in the finishing school you fled, your heart grew cold.

You remember how Alice told you, with a sad fondness in her voice, about the solitary confinement she endured, the punishments she took, and the way that she was 'cured of her immoral affections'. She then patted Alavetê's knee and quietly told you that after she was 'cured', she met the man to whom she was promised. You nodded gently, told them that they both looked very happy together, and that you wished them well. Then you excused yourself and ran.

You remember finding a small inn that took you in as a customer on good faith. You spent a long time helping around in the kitchen until you got jobs doing what you did best: detective-ing. Then you paid your debts and continued to work in Rockport.

You remember hearing the news. Your grandfather was ill and wanted to see you again. He wasn't even asking for your parents, just you. He also wanted you to pick up his silverware set from an old family friend who was cleaning it. You did as he asked and boarded the Rockport Limited.

You remember meeting the three men who would become part of your de facto family. They lied, cheated, belittled, and stole. They killed a man—a murderer, sure, but still death. They were loud, rude, and complete assholes. But! They saved everyone on the Limited and saved everyone in Neverwinter and managed to get the Oculus to the Bureau of Balance safely. No one—save for Hudson and Jenkins—really was hurt. You were in awe. Then your memory went a bit fuzzy for a while. But you kept looking for them—even though you weren't sure who they were.

You remember Killian and Carey coming to get you. You had been living in your grandfather's home, Patrice assisting you as you maintained the estate. In-between keeping up on your many cases, you were hunting after whomever had helped on the Limited, and what it was they were after. And a lot of your cases were about people who were missing but couldn't be remembered. People felt like they were short one person at the dinner table but wasn't sure who because they only had one brother. A dozen orphans were suddenly confused when they didn't have parents when they could've sworn they had a single dad. You were feverishly looking for those lost-but-not-lost people. Then Carey and Killian showed up and your life changed.

You remember getting your memories back. It was like a mental gut punch that floored you. Suddenly you remembered people you had never met. Photos of the lost-but-not-lost that were blurred out in your memory before—and during the actual event—suddenly came back. You remembered the three men that stopped the Limited. You remembered the Oculus. You remembered Phandalin. You remembered tales of a war.

You remember finding your new home. It was on the moon. You had three dads, four moms, and a couple of brothers and sisters—if only in spirit. You were loved. And even though they knew about that name, about that girl, they didn't care. You were Angus. You were brilliant. You belonged.

You remember the most recent time you wore a skirt. You stood there, arms crossed, anxious and confused. Taako's hand was on your back, the pressure reassuring, and he smiled at you in that Taako way. Magnus gave you thumbs up. Merle flipped you off but he was smiling. You exhaled slowly and turned towards the mirror.

And despite the skirt and the binder as the round spectacles and the short hair and the dress shirt and the bracer, it was still you.

It was still Angus.


	3. Press [C]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to tell them about Sivan...now how to go about it?

You took a long while to let them know. It was nerve-wracking for you to do this, even with people you considered your family. Even with people you knew better than your own family. It was slow goings but you knew who to start with—it concerned his kids too.

Merle was...well, Merle was _Merle_. You knew that even if he was a bit of an ass—scratch that, a _huge_ ass—to you sometimes, he cared. A bit.

(You'd have to pull his teeth out one-by-one to get him to admit _any_ modicum of care. Even then it's a small chance of that at best.)

It was...surprisingly easy, to be completely honest. You just walked up to him, said, "Merle...I have a boyfriend" and then he just shrugged.

"Whatever raises your flag kid." He said, which, one: _ew_...and two: o _kay_???

"You aren't _upset_?" Your voice cracked, confused, scared, unsure.

"Nah. Mavis bats for both teams at the same time, Mookie ain't on either, and Taako's as gay as a damn jaybird so why the hell would I care about you bein' southpaw?"

It took you a bit to parse his metaphor—Mookie was a surprise but Mavis wasn't, cause she was loud and proud about both her boyfriend and her girlfriend—but when you got it, you tackled and hugged him, your tall height dwarfing (pun _not_ intended) his smaller stature. You cried. He gently, and awkwardly, patted you on the back. Then he asked to be put down. You obliged.

" _Please_ don't tell anyone!"

"Kid," he gave a lazy shrug and sat back down in his beach chair, "ain't none of my business who you bone so it ain't none of my business spreading it. You tell who you will, but _fuck all_ if I care."

"Thanks Merle."

"Don't mention it." He shot you a look that said he meant that. You winked at him. He harrumphed but a smile was still there.

You love that grouchy old coot.

* * *

 

Magnus was next. You knew that he could be excitable, but when you told him about Sivan, he let out a loud whoop and scooped you up in a big bear hug. "I'm so _excited_ for you Ango!"

"Th-thank you sir!" You gasped, "please put me down! I can't _breathe_!"

" _Oops_ , sorry. Didn't mean t'choke ya!" He put you down and nervously patted your head. You tried to look disgruntled but the way that Magnus cared so much for you was too much for you to bear. "You gotta tell me _all_ about him!"

"Well, his name is Sivan and he's friends with Mookie." You were blushing just talking about him so much. "He's smart and likes music and is good with his hands and _not like that_!" The look Magnus was giving you made your blush intensify. "He's a _silversmith_! He's apprenticed to Neverwinter's Master Silversmith, Arona!"

Magnus' face fell, slowly, softly, and you _knew_ it was about Julia. "She would have been Master by now. _Both_ of us."

"Aren't you _still_ Master?" You asked softly, placing a hand flat on the left side of his chest.

"Yeah," he sniffled but you pulled him into an embrace. " _I'm sorry!_ This was supposed to be about _you_ and your new beau!"

" _Shh_ ," you rubbed small circles in his back as you hummed a tune Scales taught you once. "You're _allowed_ to cry. It's _healthy_ to cry. You told me that." You held him for a bit longer, letting him get it out. "You're good."

When he had calmed down, he rubbed his eyes clear of tears and pulled away. " _Sorry_ ," he sniffled. He carded his fingers through his beard and sighed, deep and full of repressed tension.

"You're good."

"I'm _happy_ for you; _really_!"

"I _know_."

"Keep it secret?"

"Yes _please_."

"I'll do my best champ." He smiled gently and patted your hair again. "Now go be young and in love."

"I'll do my best. _I love you!_ "

"Love you too squirt."

* * *

 

Taako was the last of the Tres Horny Boys to be told of his boyfriend. Not because you don't love him—because _fuck all_ you do; hell yes you love that man!—but because you know he'll just fucking tell _every person on the moon._ You invited him down to Neverwinter and there was Sivan, waiting for the two of you. And Merle. And Magnus. Taako was confused for a moment.

"This some sort of party shit?! Cause after I nearly blew Brad's feet clean off at the last surprise office shindig, I thought you would've learned." His voice was closed and guarded but you could read him well enough to catch the small pitch of concern. He probably thought it was some sort of intervention.

" _Nope_!" Magnus chirruped.

"Then the fuck _is_ it?!" You could taste the magic crackling on the edge of his umbra staff.

"Taako...this is Sivan," you gestured to him with a shy and gentle smile, "my _boyfriend_."

Sivan, face far darker than many would think a tiefling's could get, gave Taako a small wave. "Hi. I've heard a _lot_ about you."

"Funny," Taako drawled, "cause I haven't heard _shit_ bout you?!"

" _Taako_ —" Merle warned but he was interrupted.

"No, no, no! I have some things to say! Taako has the fucking mic so _shut up_ cause it's Taako time! Firstly: I'm _pissed_ that you kept this from me." You shrank in on yourself; Sivan reached out and gently grabbed your hand. "Second: I'm _so fucking proud_ that you kept this from me."

" _Uh?_ "

"You may be the best detective on the moon, but I'm the best snoop. _Especially_ when it comes to my favorite nerd." Taako ruffled your hair, having to stand on his tiptoes yet still somehow dignified in his unique way. "So, Steven—"

" _Sivan_ ," he corrected, ears pressed flat against his head in fear.

"— _yeah_ , that's what I said. What about Agnes do you like."

"It's _Angus_ ," he murmured, trying to find his courage. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze and he perked up immediately. "He's smart, sure, but he's also really kind. He knows how to help best, even if he doesn't get what's going on at the time." Taako looked unimpressed, cleaning his nails as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Sivan inhaled, giving your hand another quick, hard squeeze. "He snorts when he laughs. When he eats, he tucks a napkin in the front of his shirt. I've never seen him in anything less formal than a dress shirt. He keeps wanting to get his buck teeth fixed but I like how they make his smile unique. He tried to teach me the language of dragons once but I accidentally said that I wanted to ' _eat shit_ ' instead of ' _go shit_ ' and he only laughed for a few minutes. When he sleeps, he drools. He has _never once_ raised his voice to me, not because we don't fight, but because raised voices scare him. We talk it out as often as we can and seek a second opinion when we can't. He wants to make the world a better place and I already think he has."

Your face was so hot you could've fried an egg on it. You tugged your hat down so the brim shaded your face and let out a soft, whiny groan. " _Sivaaaaaaaan..._ "

"It's _true_. You made my world better." He lifted the brim of your hat and pecked you on the cheek. You flushed harder.

Taako stared the two of you down—up, really, but _semantics_ —something behind his eyes cold and calculating. Then he grinned, crooked buck teeth accentuating his own askew personality, and nodded. "Aight then. You've got the Taako stamp of approval. Just know this: if he ever says you hurt him," Taako leaned in close to Sivan and smiled again, this one more malicious than before, "they will never find the body because I will make sure you will have never existed in the first place." Drawing back, a placid smile on his face again, Taako patted Sivan on the cheek. "So let's get to that fuckin picnic my dudes! Next stop: _food coma central!_ "

( _Gods_ , you were so glad they liked him. It meant more than they could ever know. And, you know what? It meant _just_ as much to Sivan.)

(It wasn't a happily ever after, because those only exist in fairy tales, but it was _something_ and that's all you could ever ask for.)

**Author's Note:**

> Like this? Wanna inspire something like this? Then check out [my Twitter](http://twitter.com/ArrowAceP) or [my Tumblr](http://thesleepiestsheepy.tumblr.com) and drop me a prompt! I don't bite and I always credit!


End file.
